


With Two Cats in the Yard (Life Used to be So Hard)

by SBG



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve didn't want another cat; the problem was he couldn't say no to anyone in need. As it turns out, this trait pays him back in dividends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Two Cats in the Yard (Life Used to be So Hard)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't written in a while. This isn't epic. It's not even close, but it's words on a page and I am glad for them. This is tied with [Aloha Popoki (Hello Kitty)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2306432/chapters/5074793), but I am reluctant to create a series, since I doubt there will be more. This one has less to do about cats, ultimately.

It wasn’t like he had sought it out, he told himself. He hadn’t had any intention of this. He didn’t _need_ this – not right now. Just when he’d thought his life had become comfortable and complete in a way he hadn’t ever allowed himself to believe possible and he had no more empty spaces to fill, things had shifted on him. Throughout most of his life, Steve McGarrett had believed that happiness was for other people. It had been true, too, until he came back to the islands where he’d spent his youth for the unhappiest of reasons. His father’s death, while difficult, had proven the spark for something amazing, had brought him to one Daniel Williams … who had one day brought to him first a small cat and along with it his own companionship and a small girl Steve cherished as if his own flesh and blood. 

Then his mother rose from the dead and spun his life into chaos again.

No. He really didn’t need another distraction. A year ago, he wouldn’t have had any qualms about backing away, letting the circle of life take its course. He’d too often made an imprint in situations that might have resolved themselves on their own, by the very nature of his job. Steve wasn’t active duty anymore. He didn’t have to become involved. No higher-up was telling him to act. It seemed, however, that there was a fine line between need and was-gonna-get, because he couldn’t say no to the pathetic creature staring up at him, huddled next to a filthy back alley dumpster.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Next time I’m sending Kono for lunch. Look at your face, huh?”

The only answer he got was an adorable half-sneezed snuffle of a sound. Any remote possibility he could withstand this little furball vanished. Steve crouched, careful to move slowly. He glanced up and down the alley, searched for any sign of a mama cat or other kittens – this one didn’t look to be very old, the size of his hand – and saw nothing. He cursed under his breath at the way the kitten shook, the ugly weeping coming from its eyes. The right was the worst, stuck shut with pus and blood. He saw various wounds on its tiny body and his heart about broke. This tiny thing didn’t have much of a chance, and both he and it knew that.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Steve said as he eased his outer shirt off. “I’m gonna do my best by you, fella, and with any luck it’ll be enough.”

He wondered briefly if this gutsick feeling was anything like what Danny and Grace had experienced when they’d found his cat Sulley abandoned. Knowing them as he did, he didn’t really have to wonder hard. He also didn’t have to wonder how frequently animals were left to go feral and die, ugly and brutal. He was looking at his second firsthand experience with it. That part of him that needed to fix things kicked into high gear; where his life was twirling and he couldn’t seem to get a grasp on it, he could help this animal. This, he had some control over. He saw a stack of produce boxes outside the restaurant door, not yet broken down. Snagging one, he then scooped the kitten up and wrapped it in his shirt. It mewled at him, but didn’t fight as he gently set it in the box and folded the flap.

“Not to put you lower on the priority list than Danny’s stomach or anything, but I’m going to need him not bitching at me due to low blood sugar before I introduce you.”

Steve opened a window and stowed the kitten in the car before he went into _Pae Thai_ to grab the team’s take-out lunch. He was glad for a slow day, which would give him plenty of time to get the cat to the vet’s office without taking energy away from a live case. It was rare the team had time for a planned lunch together, so in a way, it was almost like the stars aligning. He set the food bag next to the box on the passenger seat, took a moment to peer inside at the matted, scruffy animal. Looking at the small, injured and sick kitten curled in his shirt made him realize there was no doubt it belonged with him, in his rag-tag family of misfits and rescues. He just had to convince one other person of that.

The cat was a dirty white with dusty spots that he wasn’t sure were dirt or part of its coloring. Its eyes, what Steve could see of them, were bright blue. He was done. It was over. He had such a thing for blue eyes. He gave it a gentle swipe between its ears and smiled at the instinctual lean and purr he got in return. His phone buzzed with an incoming text. He tucked the box flaps in and turned his focus on his cell.

_Getting ugly here. You know how Kono gets when she’s hangry. Food. Today, maybe?_

Chuckling, Steve sent back a quick, _Yes, dear_ , and started on the short drive back to HQ. There wasn’t actually too much exaggeration about Kono, which, coupled with the aroma of the food, motivated him to drive. Once at the _Hale_ , he hesitated only briefly before setting the food on top of the cat’s box and carrying both of them into HQ. It was too warm to leave a live creature in a car for long, and he’d only bring suspicion on himself if he dropped the food and ran. This way, he might test the Danny waters, too. He took a deep breath and entered their office suite.

“Fina...” Danny paused mid-word, eyeing the box beneath the plastic sacks of food. “What did you do, clean them out of pad thai?”

The ailing kitten bumped in the box, whined a bit. Steve watched Danny’s eyes widen slightly, then narrow. A finger came up, pointed at him. He tried to look as imploring as possible, which wasn’t all that difficult for him. He’d discovered that about himself early on in life, and had immediately begun employing the strategic maneuver whenever appropriate. Maybe on occasion when inappropriate. 

“Steven,” Danny said slowly.

“Déjà vu all over again,” Steve said with a shrug.

Kono barreled forward, muttering something about keeping the domestic disputes out of the office. She grabbed her take-out before retreating a short distance, attention ostensibly on lunch, but with one eye cast toward Steve and Danny.

“Do you really think you need another animal right now?”

Steve didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t concede the point. He knew his life was busy and a kitten would be a lot of work, after all. His head and his heart were at war. Instead of giving Danny the satisfaction of being technically in the right, he opened the box and tilted it toward his partner. 

“That is not going to work on me.” Danny folded his arms over his chest. “I fell for the sad, tiny cat routine once.”

As he jiggled the box gently, Steve moved a step closer. The kitten, weak but alert, got shakily to its feet. Steve saw the moment Danny lost his resolve, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly and he peered over the lip of the box. He watched his partner reach a tentative hand out. The kitten, as if sensing the same safety Steve always got from Danny, headbutted Danny’s hand, then began licking his fingers.

“Damn it,” Danny said with a sigh.

Turnabout was totally fair play, Steve thought.

H50H50H50

_“Now, I was going to ask if this little guy was going to a shelter after I updated you on his condition, but I get the feeling he’s already found a home,”_ Doctor Holoholona said, warmth in her tone very clear through the phone line.

Steve’s attention flicked to the shoreline, where Danny stood up to his ankles in the surf while Grace splashed around nearby. The little girl’s laughter carrying all the way to the house through its open windows was brighter than sunshine and, as always, the picture of her and Danny was one that filled him with such contentment he often didn’t know how to fully process. Danny’s smile was wide as he turned toward the house, seeking Steve even from a distance. He didn’t have this full time, but when he had it – his heart was fit to burst.

He didn’t know what he’d do if Danny didn’t win this latest custody struggle. Suddenly, Steve had a lump in his throat. That wasn’t going to happen. Danny couldn’t lose Grace, and Steve couldn’t lose either of them. Not anymore. Their life together wasn’t a perfect happy-family, curtain-hanging kind of thing, but it was everything to him. In light of the clusterfuck that had become his family by blood, having Danny and Grace had become a lifeline to him, no longer a blessing so much as a necessity.

 _“Am I right?”_ Holoholona said.

A thump against his calf drew his eyes off of Danny and down to Sulley, who rammed against him in her own show of affection. Perfect was relative, he knew.

“How late are you open today?” Steve asked. “We can probably be there in under an hour.”

The doctor chuckled and let him know that would be fine. Steve slid his phone back into his pocket, then crouched to give Sulley her demanded chin rubs and head strokes. She stayed for only a few, the duration of her fondness as always on her terms. He liked to joke with Danny that she’d gotten that from him, only to have Danny remind him that when Danny loved someone, it was all encompassing and it didn’t ever completely end. Even Rachel still had a space in Danny’s heart, Steve knew, and rather than be annoyed by that, he could only wonder at Danny’s capacity to open himself to others like that. He was learning, though. 

That thought fresh in his mind, Steve slipped out the door, careful to keep Sulley inside since they were about to leave for a bit. He smiled widely at Danny as his partner studied his approach.

“Babe, where are the popsicles? I distinctly remember you were going into the house for popsicles,” Danny said, grousing without any rancor the way he was so good at.

“Yeah, Uncle Steve,” Grace joined in, splashing her way over to them. 

Steve bumped his elbow against Danny’s bicep, casual greeting. They weren’t ones for overt displays, didn’t spend a lot of time draped over each other, but he liked to remind Danny that he was his. Danny called it leaving his scent, marking his territory with touch, as if humans had keen enough noses to smell that Steve was all over him. Like it mattered; even without obvious shows, people always spotted them as a couple anyway. They always had.

“I was thinking maybe shave ice on the way to the vet’s office instead,” Steve said.

“Oh, the doc called? I take it the news was good.” 

Danny might be going for casual interest, but he was as invested in Steve’s rescue kitten as anyone. Maybe more so. If Steve had been touched by the scrap of a thing he’d found in an alley, then Danny had been rolled over with a kitten bulldozer. It was honestly one of the cutest things Steve had ever seen. He knew Danny liked Sulley well enough, but this one was different. That first day, Danny had only picked at his lunch, too preoccupied with the sick kitten to eat. Sometimes things happened for a reason. Sulley had entered his own life just when he’d needed her and everything that came with her, after all.

“He’s gonna pull through. Doctor Holoholona said that she couldn’t save his right eye, but his left is looking good and his other injuries were superficial. He tested clean for FIV and leukemia, too, though she recommends retesting him when he’s older. What do you think, Grace, should I adopt another cat?”

“Yes!” Grace all but shouted, then started for the house at a fast jog. “This is so exciting, I can’t wait to meet him. I’ll go rinse off and get dressed so we can go pick him up.”

They made it to the vet’s office in almost the exact amount of time Steve had predicted, the shave ice voted down in favor of cat. Doctor Holoholona briefly laid out the care that still needed to happen – daily eye drops, a small collar to keep him from scratching and lots of love – as she brought them back to the exam room where the kitten waited for them to crate and take home. It set Steve’s mind at ease to know the loss of an eye wouldn’t have too much negative impact on the kitten’s life, especially since it happened so young. He would adapt well and develop just fine otherwise, though the doctor did warn of potential issues with food which might present differently than Sulley’s strange obsession with putting any and everything into her mouth.

The room appeared empty when they first entered. Grace looked between him, Danny and Doctor Holoholona in confusion, until they heard a strangely resonant meow. The kitten was huddled in the small sink. He peered up, one eye bright and blue and the other patched. Steve knew when he was healed and grown a little more, they could have it stitched in a way it would be barely noticeable. 

“Ohmygosh, he’s so cute,” Grace whispered. 

“Looks like he might have a little snowshoe in him,” Doctor Holoholona said. “His mask will darken and you can already see the light brown spots filling in on his back.”

Steve made a small sound of assent. He didn’t really care that much how the little thing looked, he was just so glad to have found him in time. He watched Grace cradle the cat to her, smiled at the way he didn’t wriggle or try to get away. He didn’t think he could have asked for a more perfect addition to his little family. 

“We should really think of a name for him,” Danny murmured. “How about Willie? One-Eyed Willie.”

“Eh,” Grace said.

Nodding his agreement that Willie was out, Steve said, “Since he’s technically my cat and he’ll be living in my house, I was thinking Cy.”

“For Cy Young? I could get behind that.”

“No, Mr. Baseball. Look no further than the obvious – Cy _clops_.” Steve folded his arms across his chest, his classic stance to signify he wasn’t going to budge. 

“On that note, my second choice is Lefty,” Danny said. “What do you think, Grace? Which is the better name?”

Grace chewed her lip, held the kitten away from her slightly and narrowed her eyes. She looked up at him, then at Danny, and shook her head. She cuddled the cat close again.

“I think both names aren’t right. I thought maybe Mike Wazowski at first, but that’s not right either,” Grace said. She looked at the cat thoughtfully. “His name has to be Sriracha, because you found him by a Thai restaurant, Uncle Steve, and because he’s still got some kick left in him.”

Steve had been working on steeling himself against that expression of Grace’s. Danny had warned him it wouldn’t be easy; said he’d been doing the same for ten years and failing happily. He looked at Grace, arms still across his chest, glanced at the one-eyed kitten in her embrace, his bright blue seeming to master the same look. At least she hadn’t picked Pad Thai for a name. 

“I like it,” Steve said. 

“Can’t fault the logic,” Danny agreed. “Steve, Sulley and Sriracha. Quite the alliterative little family you’ve got now, babe.” 

Except a couple of non-alliterative names were missing from that, Steve thought, giving Danny a fond look and a nod. 

“If it’s settled, let’s get little Sriracha ready to go home,” Doctor Holoholona said.

H50H50H50

It was a cliché, honestly, how thick the tension in the room was. Steve was tempted to turn to the knife block and grab a blade to cut through it, perpetuate the saying. Doris was his _mother_ , for fuck’s sake. It shouldn’t feel like he was sharing space with a cold stranger. Except, of course, Doris was also that. He hated feeling like this but wasn’t inclined to quash his reactions for the sake of shared blood.

Part of it was his SEAL training. It had been drummed into him – if he felt a situation was off, even if he couldn’t pinpoint any concrete reason why, he had to go with his gut. The gut was almost always right. Doris coming back and acting as though he had no right to treat her as anything but a loving mother pinged his suspicions in a major way; it was an inhuman expectation, that he’d be nothing but the doting son he’d been before Doris had faked her own death and abandoned her family. And then disappeared again. She demanded his respect without earning it, and without respecting him in return. Her motivation for disappearing, protecting them she said, wasn’t as relevant to him as her attitude about it now.

The worst thing was knowing that had not first his father and then he started digging into Wo Fat and Shelburne, she would never have come back into his life. Wasn’t it just shit that he wondered if that wouldn’t have been better? Steve loved his mother; he didn’t like her very much most of the time. It had been so much easier to love her when she was dead and he was very conscious of how awful that was. 

“You moved the junk drawer,” Doris said, sounding as if she were miffed about it as she opened drawer after drawer until she found it, like she expected these little things to have remained static during her absence.

“Dad must have,” Steve said. “He probably did it twenty years ago, Mom. Things change. It’s not personal.”

Doris shot him a disapproving, severe frown. She didn’t say anything this time, but there was an edge of amusement mixed in with her expression. It gave her that air of duplicity which made it impossible for him to relax, like she thought his distrust was funny. She knew exactly what she was doing at all times, that was one thing about her he could say with absolute certainty. If it were just him, he might have been able to move forward with caution. It wasn’t. Danny had trod around the subject of his mother with far more diplomacy than was usual for him. He loved Danny that much more for trying, but in trying he said as much as if he’d let his opinion fly free. 

For a man could talk most people nearly to death, Danny also had a finely honed set of non-verbal tools at his disposal. A certain curl of his lip signified he thought someone (often Steve) was being an idiot. His hand movements were his own version of non-standardized tactical signals. Stiffened shoulders were a giveaway to extreme pending agitation. With Doris around again, Steve noticed Danny exhibiting all of his known tells, and had seen several added to the list. He watched Doris dig through the junk drawer, smiled to himself.

_He couldn’t get comfortable, shifting around on the bed so much he knew it was annoying Danny by the soft grunts and throat clearing that came after every move. He couldn’t help it. Doris had said she didn’t plan on living with him long, that she had the good grace to give him his privacy. Frankly, he doubted she had any good grace at all, that more likely her wish to get out from under the same roof as him was so she could keep her secrets. Finally, after his fourth change of position and a more vocal protest from the other man in the bed, Danny simply rolled to him, threw his arm over Steve’s and held him from behind._

_“Go to sleep, McGarrett,” Danny said softly, then kissed his shoulder. “You might not need it, but some of us do require beauty rest.”_

_Steve smiled at the self-deprecation, a put-on. Danny had no modesty about his own looks and charms. He put his hand atop Danny’s, lifted his own arm and tucked Danny’s hand back in close, his partner’s hand laying in the middle of his chest. He drew a circle on it with his thumb._

_“You didn’t have to stay,” Steve whispered._

_“I wanted to,” Danny said, kissing his shoulder blade. “Your bed’s better ’n mine.”_

_There as a good likelihood Doris wasn’t fond of his choice in partners – at work and in his bed – if her sour expression every time she saw Danny was anything to go by. There was an even better chance that was why Danny hadn’t seemed to consider staying at his own place. Steve felt like the flag in a personal tug-of-war game. As yet, he wasn’t sure who was going to win. Danny’s kisses trailed down his shoulder blade to his spine, followed along the path of it. He snuffled a tiny protest as Danny slipped his hand free, slid it down to Steve’s hip and turned him away ever so slightly._

_“Danny,” he murmured, “my mom’s in the house.”_

_Danny wasn’t quiet in bed. Having been told in the past how paper-thin the walls of this place were, Steve really didn’t need his mother knowing every intimate detail of his life. The thought alone made him uncomfortable. He tried to get out from Danny’s hold, gasped at the way Danny’s hand tightened, the hot breath tickling against the small of his back._

_“Oh, I am very aware,” Danny mumbled, then mouthed at Steve’s right cheek, a bare graze of teeth and tongue._

_Then Danny said no more, employed his mouth with other tasks and it was Steve who had to keep from making too much noise. It was easy for him, he was used to keeping things quiet, though he had no control over the bed springs, the slight thump of the headboard against the wall as his body bucked from Danny’s talented tongue rimming him, his fingers stroking, finding an easy rhythm._

_In the morning, the look on Doris’s face as she announced she’d found other accommodations for the duration of her stay told him Danny’s wordless message had been received loud and clear._

It wasn’t a coincidence that Doris only came by when Danny wasn’t around. In truth, that surprised Steve. He’d pegged his mother to use confrontation to her advantage at all times, briefly let the idea that she chose not to up the ante because she saw he was happy roll around in his head. It was stupid to think like that. Beneath the wishful thinking he always maintained a suspicion that there were ulterior motives to everything his mother did. 

“Here it is,” Doris said, extracting the corkscrew. “You probably knew right where that was.”

Steve smiled and shrugged, arms folded across his chest. He neither confirmed nor denied, but took the proffered glass of wine she handed him after opening the wine bottle. As she spun to retrieve her own off of the small portable island, there came a loud squall from deeper into the house, followed by a few bumps and the sound of something hitting the floor and rolling. Two blurs of fur sped into the kitchen, one deep gray and the other more white. The gray one kept going. The white stopped right in Doris’s path, tripping her. 

“Mom,” Steve said, moving to catch her before she could fall. 

The glass of wine didn’t fare so well, falling from her fingers and shattering on the floor. Red wine splashed everywhere, glass splinters shone like glitter. Doris swore loudly, while Sriracha arched his back, tail up and puffed, and hissed. He took a good swipe at Doris’s ankle, drawing blood. Then, having deemed his point made, turned and fled. Perhaps it was inappropriate, but Steve couldn’t contain his laughter. Apparently Danny wasn’t the only one adept at verbal and nonverbal communication.

“Not funny,” Doris said, giving Steve a glare and pulling from his grasp. “You know, I never approved of animals in the house. I didn’t think you’d ever be one for the things. Must be Danny’s influence. Cats are so …”

For some reason, it sounded to him like Doris was hedging toward a sweeping judgment on more aspects of his life than his choice of pet. He held up a hand.

“Fierce? Strong-willed? Smart?” Steve said, thinking of Danny. “Yeah, I can’t imagine why I have an affinity for things like that.”

H50H50H50

Steve never expected life to be perfect. If anything, he’d always had the exact opposite expectation, and suffered no illusion now that things were better for him than they’d been for a long, long time. The truth was, he didn’t really want perfect. Perfect was boring. Perfect for him wasn’t the same as genuine perfection. He thrived on challenges and he saw no small shortage of them. According to Danny, he was a danger magnet and there was some truth there. Now he was with Danny and there was Grace to consider, he found himself less interested in those types of challenges. Everyday twists and turns kept things interesting, no over the top drama needed. At the end of the day, all he wanted was to be happy and he had it. Most of the time.

But not, apparently, when it came to inviting former girlfriends to join Five-0.

“I didn’t peg you for the jealous type,” Steve said, irritated by Danny’s attitude. “It doesn’t suit you.”

It was deflection at its finest. He knew how to push Danny’s buttons, the good ones and the bad. Steve needed the time to get his own head wrapped around the executive decision he’d made, not sure if he’d done it because Catherine was a legitimate asset to the team or if he felt sorry for her after what happened with Billy. He knew what it was like to be adrift, and if anyone had a right to that kind of feeling, it was someone who’d left a lifelong career only to have it end in disaster. He felt bad for Catherine, he’d been there. That was a big part of it. The reasoning, though, sounded flimsy even to his own mind.

“Jea… Listen to me, you schmuck. Unless you’re confessing to something with that remark, I have no reason to be jealous of Catherine,” Danny almost shouted. He ran a hand through his hair, then straightened it. He took a deep breath. “I’m not a fan of you tossing shit like that at me to diminish my concerns, by the way. You have a bad habit of doing that.” 

Steve straightened. Something about Danny when he was like this made him want to dig in his own heels. Probably the fact that Danny wasn’t wrong. If Danny wasn’t wrong, then on some level he was and he hated being wrong, even a little.

“Catherine has great skills and still has access to Navy Intelligence, both things we can always use, especially now that we don’t have Kono for a while. There’s less of a conflict of interest with her than you. I don’t know why you’re making this a thing.”

Danny ceased moving and stared at him, eyes sharp. He studied Steve, silent for a long moment. Long enough to be worrisome, as were the fists he’d made with his hands. He’d looked tense before, but now looked ready to blow. 

Steve understood he was making a mess of this. He wasn’t sure yet how, which part, and felt a little like if he kept going he’d only talk himself further into a hole. The last place anyone wanted to be when arguing with Danny was in a bottomless hole. He knew the only course of action was to call a truce, step back and see if he could figure out how to approach this better. Any way would be better.

As he opened his mouth to do so his two cats came rolling through the room. Literally rolling, with fast swipes of claws, unearthly noises and various shades of grey and white fur flying. They had these bouts frequently and from what he could gather, they were trying to reestablishing pecking order now that Sriracha was bigger. Whatever it was, it was growing tiresome. Fully distracted by the yowls, Steve cursed and attempted to separate the two feline holy terrors. By the time he managed to get Racha off of Sulley and the room returned to normal, it was five minutes and a few scratches to his forearms later. 

He really had to get some shelves installed. He knew both cats needed higher ground to retreat to, safe spaces. 

“Behave,” he said, sticking a finger in Sriracha’s face for whatever good it would do. He glanced at Sulley. “That goes for you too.”

Both cats looked at him with wariness, but went their separate ways. For now, at least, peace had returned. Steve took a deep breath, wished he could say he and Danny had regained some peace. He noticed belatedly that during the kitty chaos, Danny had vanished. With a huff of exasperation – vacating a space to avoid conflict was more his style than Danny’s – Steve tried to decide how much more of that conversation he could take right now anyway. Part of him knew he had to go find Danny. The other part, not so much. 

Now or later, it had to be done. Steve sighed. Complain as he might about the sound of the ocean, when Danny was angry or stressed he usually found his way to the chairs at the edge of the lawn. That was the first place Steve looked, having stopped in the kitchen to arm himself with conciliatory beer instead. Danny had clearly gone off script. Fortunately, they were on physical familiar territory, if nothing else. Barring Danny leaving the prop… shit. Steve had intended to look up in his room for his partner, following the way the cats’ sparring had ended – maybe Danny had retreated to higher ground. At the thought of Danny leaving, angry for reasons Steve hadn’t quite grasped yet, he left the beer in the kitchen and detoured to the door, poked his head out to make sure the Camaro was still parked at his house.

The car was right where it was supposed to be. Steve closed the door and leaned his forehead against it for a moment. He heard the rumble of Danny’s voice, quiet, from upstairs. Higher ground after all, thank goodness. He headed up the stairs. Pausing at the threshold of his bedroom, he watched Danny sit with Sriracha on his lap, stroking the cat’s head absently as he murmured. 

“There you are,” Steve said. He approached Danny cautiously, taking the fact the other man didn’t stand and stalk away as encouragement. He sat close, their shoulders brushing. He bumped Danny gently. “Are we going to finish our conversation?”

More than half of him hoped the answer would be no, that they could move on. 

Danny took a deep breath. He looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t. He twisted his torso and placed Sriracha on the bed, giving the cat one last scratch behind his left ear. 

Sriracha picked a spot by the pillows to curl up for a nap, already back to his usual behavior after going after Sulley, probably in defense. Sulley knew how to rile Sriracha up, and then shoot a “help me, I’m innocent” wide-eyed stare in Steve’s direction. Steve looked at Danny, then the cat, then back to Danny. He had to admit, his attempt to divert Danny’s focus was meant to flip the whole Cath thing onto his partner. He hated to be called out for anything, by anyone. That was especially true if it was Danny. He wasn’t proud to admit that he hadn’t really listened long enough to hear Danny’s point. He didn’t want to push, uncertain if that were the best course of action here, but the pause in Danny’s response was starting to unnerve him. His partner hadn’t even looked back at him, his attention focused on the dresser. Steve was about to prompt him again when Danny spoke.

“Why don’t I have a drawer here?”

Okay, that ... was nowhere near what he expected. It was so unrelated to their argument, he struggled to process it for a moment. Or two. Or a lot more than that. He was reminded how Danny’s mind worked in a totally different way to his. Steve wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond. He might still be unsure what Danny was upset about regarding Catherine, but he’d learned enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. Sulley, a perfect distraction, came in and leaped onto the bed, nudging at both him and Danny before settling next to Sriracha, snuggling like they hadn’t just been tearing each other’s fur out.

“We basically spend ninety-five percent of our time together, most of the non-work hours in this house, yet none of my stuff is here,” Danny said. 

Steve had to look at that as a fact. He hadn’t ever been in a place long enough, let alone been with any person, to think about drawer assignment. He felt uneasy yet about where Danny was going with this. 

“I have no problem if you want a drawer. I never considered it before. I’ve never had a reason to before you,” Steve said slowly. Careful, he had to be careful. He rested a hand on Danny’s thigh, suddenly sure of one thing, at least. “Danny, I’d give you the whole closet if you wanted it.”

More. Steve realized with sharp clarity that he would give Danny everything, no hesitation. He would lay down his life for Danny. He squeezed Danny’s leg in an attempt to get the other man to look his way. It worked. What he saw in Danny’s expression made his heart beat faster. If he knew nothing else, he knew he hadn’t said the wrong thing.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Danny asked, smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course I would,” Steve said, with a return smile, though he was sure his was somewhat confused. “Is that what you want? A drawer?” 

“Nope.” Danny laughed. “No drawer needed.”

“Then what this is about?”

And how did it relate to their original argument?

“Let’s just say it’s nice to know that I might not be as replaceable as I thought,” Danny said.

Replaceable. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to refute the very notion, but Danny twisted slightly and leaned into him. Danny’s kiss was fervent, fueled by emotion Steve hadn’t had time to comprehend. He had no idea how they’d gone from a verbal brawl to this, but after a moment he didn’t really care. He’d put the pieces together later, he thought hazily. In a decade, maybe two, he’d understand Danny completely.

But probably not.

H50H50H50

Though he needed to stay under the hot stream of water for a lot longer to wash all of the dust, blood and muscle aches of the day away, Steve only permitted himself his standard three minutes. He had these images in his head which wouldn’t fade – Marcus Decker using his last moments to try to warn them about the bomb, a former CIA man dead on the draw, Danny. God, Danny. He shut the water off, rested his head against the wall of the shower for a second. He couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t his fault. All of it, directly or indirectly.

His call on the fake drug bust, his damn complicated life had landed Danny in the hospital. It was Steve’s choice to pull that rebar out. Had Steve known they were going to have to climb through the rubble to get out from underneath that parking garage, he would have made a different decision. Stabilize the rebar, pack the wound. Keep Danny as still as possible. Keep Danny alive. He couldn’t go back and do anything over again, he knew that all too well. His life was founded on not being able to go backwards, to try instead to live without regrets. It didn’t stop him from thinking about the past and any mistakes best left there, but he was stuck with the consequences as surely as Danny was stuck with an ugly, infected wound in his side. 

As always, there wasn’t time. He didn’t need to waste precious minutes dissecting the whole day. Steve had been prohibited from seeing Danny while still covered in asphalt dust and blood, hours after his partner had been admitted. Without him, because he’d been off dealing with his own shit instead of making sure Danny was okay. And Steve might find dirt behind his ears tomorrow, but for now his mission was accomplished. He was clean enough to go into a hospital room and see Danny was going to be okay with his own eyes. He needed to see it, though he had no reason to suspect anyone had been untruthful when they told him Danny would be fine.

Toweling off with haste as he walked into his room, he quickly donned the first pair of underwear his hands grabbed and smiled ruefully when he noticed they weren’t his, but Danny’s. The fit wasn’t quite right, and boxer brief swapping wasn’t something he’d normally do, yet he didn’t feel inclined to change. He tugged on a pair of pants. Steve sat on the rumpled, half-made bed, a habit he hadn’t had pre-Danny, he thought with a smile. 

The smile vanished when the thin quilt and bedsheets let out a yowl and a streak of tan emerged, tearing across the room into the bathroom. He shook his head. He should have known. One of Sriracha’s favorite napping spots was their bed. Pre-cat, he never imagined he’d care so little about so much animal hair. A plume of it seemed to descend around him in Racha’s wake. Moments after his disappearance into the bathroom, the cat started to meow plaintively.

“Ridiculous cat,” Steve muttered, with nothing but fondness. 

He stood and returned to the bathroom, one sock on and one sock off. He saw Sriracha’s paws on the shower liner and wondered how the blasted creature could always manage to find his way into the tub but never out. Reason told him that Sriracha might sometimes end up in the shower when no one was home to rescue him. To not give in to the cat’s antics, more like. The simple fact of the matter was, he knew the cat had him wrapped around his paw and didn’t really care. In that way, Sriracha and Danny were very much alike. He drew the shower curtain back with a smile. Sriracha hopped out with a tiny mew of gratitude as he hopped out and stared at Steve with his lone eye.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, but his thoughts were again on Danny, getting back to the hospital. “Next time, you’re on your own.”

He finished dressing quickly, ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look less bedraggled. His face was cut up, bruised, and he was a mess. His insides were a bigger mess, but at least no one could see that part. Steve took an extra minute to feed Sulley and Sriracha, then headed back to the hospital. He made up for some time, pressing the gas pedal perhaps a bit too hard.

As it was well past visiting hours when he arrived, Steve expected he’d have to use his status to get in to see Danny. He was surprised, though, when the on duty receptionist just gave him a brief nod at his inquiry.

“Third floor, left off of the elevator,” she said. “Room 317.” 

“Thanks,” Steve said. 

He had to figure the whole city had likely been abuzz with the explosion and subsequent rescue. It was a small island and Five-0 were in the news more often than the governor would like. In this case, it was getting him access without the need to push for it, and he could only be grateful. Steve expected his own bruises and scratches helped. Whatever the reason for the free pass, he’d take it. With Chin and Kono off cleaning up his mess with Cobb, Steve knew he’d have Danny to himself and he needed it. 

When he rounded the door of the hospital room, he was grateful for the solitude. From a completely compartmentalized standpoint, Danny didn’t look too bad. His face was pale except bright splotches of color high on his cheeks and he lay still as if in a peaceful slumber. There was no overt reason for him to feel weak at the knees, but it still seemed like he barely made it to the chair set next to Danny’s bed. 

He knew Danny was going to be fine. He told himself again that it was pointless to let his mind be filled with what-if scenarios that hadn’t played out. But he should have been here. After being with Danny for so long, after almost dying together, he should have stayed and made sure his partner was okay before running off to get answers to questions that wouldn’t have mattered to him if something had happened to Danny. Steve sat on the edge of the chair, leaned and pressed his forehead against Danny’s shoulder. The heat coming off of his partner was quite a bit more than usual, the fever.

“Don’t do that,” Danny muttered.

Steve jerked upright, thinking in a panic that he must be hurting Danny. Eyes wide, he stared at Danny’s flushed face. Bleary eyes looked back at him, not pained but fond with a hint of reproof. 

“Danny,” Steve said, not quite sure where to start. He wasn’t good at this stuff. He was an actions-speaking-louder kind of guy, only his actions hadn’t said what he should have meant.

“Don’t do that, either.” Danny smiled, lopsided and vaguely wan given his feverish hue. His voice was craggy, from sleep and probably from inhaling dust from the explosion. “I’m okay, or will be, at any rate. See, I’m trying that positive outlook thing of yours. It totally works.”

“Your wound is infected. You have a fever. That’s not okay, and if I hadn’t…”

“Listen, hey,” Danny said, cutting him off with a weak hand wave. “It doesn’t matter. This is me, the guy who would blame a hangnail on you if I thought it would stick, telling you that none of this was your fault. Not a single bit of it. Let’s don’t waste time with shit we can’t change.”

It was his fault, though. Steve couldn’t just shake that off so readily, but he nodded. Danny didn’t need any added stress and he was proficient at burying his emotions deep to move forward. He’d been struggling over this because it was Danny, and Danny was telling him all he needed to know.

“That’s true,” Steve said, with a hint of a smile. “But how do I know this isn’t the fever talking? You’re not naturally this reasonable.”

Danny cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at him; even that minor movement looked like it was too taxing. The normal head of steam Danny would be working up to petered into a glassy-eyed stare and a feeble finger point. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” Danny said. 

And that was more than enough to get him through, Steve thought as he clasped Danny’s forearm with one hand. With the other, he cupped the side of Danny’s face, traced his thumb across cheekbone and stubble and silently gave his reply as Danny drifted back to sleep.

H50H50H50

He could barely see. Sweat poured in his eyes, made them sting and burn. Arms restrained, he couldn’t keep the perspiration from running down his face. Tears flooded his eyes instead, his body’s attempt to cleanse; it only added to his impairment of his sight. The final layer, and worst, was his own desperate panic. He was seconds away from death and he would not – could not – go down without a fight. He had too much to lose now. Images of Danny’s face flashed in front of his mind’s eye, all too clear where his actual vision was compromised. Danny smiling. Danny laughing. Danny scowling. Grace, then Chin and Kono and Catherine, even Max, came next. He had so much to live for now.

He fought like a wild animal caught in a poacher’s net. Danny. It was Danny above all of the others who he kept seeing. Danny who had been supportive of his need to help Catherine but also had obvious unspoken conflicting opinions as well. Danny’s face said so much. Steve landed a punch, hard, against one of his captors’ jaws. Satisfaction and adrenaline pumped through him, gave him a brief euphoric thought that he could survive this. It didn’t last, as tenfold number of fists pummeled and hands grabbed at him. No, this couldn’t, he couldn’t. As much as he tried to live without regrets, Steve was filled with them now. Even when he found himself on the ground, circling unconsciousness, he saw Danny. 

As it was in the beginning, was now and ever would be. Danny.

A concussive burst, so loud, filled the room, drowned out the men shouting for his head. Another followed, then another. It all had him jerking and scuttling for non-existent cover. Steve knew those sounds, instinct kicked in. Duck. Cover. He couldn’t. Shouts and gunfire, a confusing cacophony. Danny, so sorry. It all went quiet. Moments later, different touches, firm, to his shoulder, then the back of his head. Steve tried to get away, but he still couldn’t, tried to look into the face of the man who was about to kill him and remained blind. Useless, he closed his eyes and waited.

“Steve,” a voice said, a soothing tone in the swirl of chaos that had become his last moments. “Babe, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

It wasn’t. He was halfway across the world from everyone he loved, dying without being able to see them, tell them. He shook with that, unable to do anything else. Steve let out a choked, pathetic noise, pulled deep from his belly. He felt himself bodily rolled onto his back. Hands, again. Something heavy landed on his stomach, exactly on the spot his death sob had sprung from. It felt warm and in a way, it soothed him. 

“It is. You’ve got to believe,” that same voice said. “Shh, just take it easy. Go back to sleep. Dream about good things, dream about surviving. You survived it once already.”

The quiet remained. There were no loud blasts, no shouts for his head. He wondered if that was normal, at the end. A faint hum started, and with it came a soft vibration. Steve drifted, finding peace in both the warm weight and the tenor of the voice. 

“Good girl, Sull,” he heard faintly as he slipped into that final unconsciousness.

It wasn’t often he wasn’t awake before the sun lit the sky bright. He didn’t always get up when he first awoke, but often did. The early morning hours were some of his favorites, before the rest of the island got started, when it was just him and the sound of the ocean. Steve opened his eyes, slow to do so out of a lasting impression of dread pushing down on him despite the quiet all around. He remembered violence and death, a vividly sharp memory. For a moment, he was confused about where he was. Blinked a few times, expecting the deathmen to be at him once again. But, no.

Home. Alive.

Once the reality set in, he reached automatically for Danny only to find his partner’s place on the bed vacant. Steve frowned, missed his partner acutely. He wasn’t alone, though. He felt it. He knew it. Sulley lay curled on his abdomen, a comforting weight. Tucked next to his hip was Sriracha. He lifted his head, to which Sulley opened one eye to look at him lazily and then gave him a small mew. She sighed and settled in even deeper. A rush of warmth filled him. He almost felt bad for having to disturb the cats’ slumber but he felt a film of sweat all over and he had a dire need to rinse it off.

The cats scattered as he rolled to his side, then slid off the bed. Steve snagged fresh boxers before heading into the bathroom. He set the shower water to a soothing lukewarm, giving his shadow-eyed face a quick glance in the mirror before stepping under the water. He let the night sweat wash down the drain, wished he could wash everything away. The vividness of what he knew was a nightmare lingered even now. During waking hours, he could block in order to function. Nights were more challenging, or used to be, before…

Danny.

Danny had been with him. Steve remembered that voice from earlier, and he got now that it had been the only real thing he’d been experiencing. That meant Danny had to be in the house, even if he hadn’t been in bed. It was a comforting thought. Everything about Danny meant comfort to him, literal, needed comfort. Motivated by the promise of being able to thank Danny for keeping him grounded, he dried quickly and slipped into his boxers. He headed back into the bedroom.

Sulley and Sriracha had already re-claimed the bed as theirs, cuddled together not at the foot, but right up by the pillows. He couldn’t find it in him to disrupt them again to make up the bed a little. He felt a funny sort of warmth at how contented they looked when he remembered how rocky they had started out. Sometimes the most rewarding things were those that had to be worked hard for. He had flashback of a solid presence during the worst of his nightmare and he smiled as he leaned across the bed and planted a kiss on Sulley’s head, soothing ruffled fur when she groused at him. Then he set his focus on finding Danny.

The smell of coffee and the soft sound of voices greeted him when he opened the bedroom door. Yes, he should have remembered – it was a Grace weekend. The shut door made sense; he had been too rattled to get his head sorted as quickly as he usually did to remember. Steve backtracked to put on a pair of boardies and a T-shirt before trotting downstairs. 

“But he is going to be all right, though?” Grace asked, her voice carrying through the kitchen doorway.

From the tone in her voice, it wasn’t the first time Grace had asked that question. Steve knew instantly the he she was talking about was him. He stopped walking, hesitant. God, he’d had an episode when Grace was in the house. Of course she'd heard and was upset. He had no interest in hiding things or sugarcoating them with Grace – he had grown up in a house built on secrets, and he would not do that to her. He felt bad she ever had to be exposed to his damage, wished he could prevent it. Wished, for her, that he wasn't so easily broken. 

“I can’t say that for sure, Gracie,” Danny said. “You know Steve’s been through a lot.”

“I know, but…”

“I know you want me to tell you everything’s going to be okay. And I believe it will be this time, but I won’t tell you that will always be the case.” The refrigerator door opened, then shut. “Not because I don’t want to, but because I won’t mislead you. Life’s not that easy for anyone, but it’s been especially hard for Steve. But I will tell you something. Steve’s got something now that will always help him pull through when things get rough. You know what that is?”

“What?”

“You. He’s got you and he’s got me,” Danny said, firm, sure. “We’re his superglue, yeah, so even if he breaks a little now and again, we’ll be here to put him back together.”

“It would be better if he never broke,” Grace said. 

“Of course it would, baby.” A clink of a spoon against ceramic. “Bet we can work on that, too. Now rinse up your bowl and then you can head outside. I’ll be out in a few.”

“Okay, Danno.”

The remnants of his subconscious replay of Afghanistan faded in light of what he had wanted so much to come back to. Steve had to stay where he was for a few more seconds, feeling like he wasn’t meant to have heard that conversation but also like it was vital for him to have done so. He took several deep breaths, nothing aching except his heart, and that in a good way. When he went into the kitchen at last, it was to Danny alone standing next to the sink and watching the doorway with an expectant look.

Steve’s heart was in two places at once, in his throat and beating out of his chest. Danny's face was tired but tender, and through the window Steve could see Grace plucking a plumeria blossom from his garden. He loved them both, so much. Grace, brilliant, sweet and caring just like her father. Danny, who would drop everything and fly around the world for him. Danny, who always seemed to know what he needed most. Sometimes he really didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky. Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder when it would all crumble around him, the way he was used to things in his life ending. 

“Danny,” Steve said.

“Hey, morning,” Danny said. He smiled. “I hope you know we both meant every word of that.”

Sometimes Steve was sure it never would.


End file.
